#athos x aramis
For@celticwildechild, who requested Athos/Aramis - because of course you did, ahaha <3
(5000 bonus points if it involves Vampire!Athos and/or Vampire!Aramis) - I’ll collect those points now plz. IT GOT ANGSTY, SORRY. But then fluff, promise, oh and a bit of smut, whoops.
9. “Are those fake vampire teeth in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
Aramis pressed almost uncomfortably close to Athos’ front, and asked the question with such innocent guile that Athos almost believed it.
“You know very well that they’re real,” Athos murmured, trying his hardest not to smile as he pressed said very real, very dangerous teeth along tanned, slim neck.
“So you arepleased to see me,” Aramis purred, and laughed happily when Athos threatened to bite him, whined disappointedly when he didn’t.
“This ridiculous outing was your idea,” Athos reminded in some amusement.
“Yes, but no one else will have realistic bite wounds,” Aramis replied, a measure of pleading and whining in it.
Athos scoffed, refusing to be swayed by the hot hands that gripped at his hair, nor the sultry kisses that threatened in an entirely different way.
Perhaps a little bit swayed.
Athos winced uncomfortably when the cross around Aramis’ neck fell out of his shirt and singed his skin. It didn’t leave a mark, not much did but for the othermarks Aramis left on him of an evening, and those were far more pleasant.
“Sorry,mon cher,” Aramis murmured, tucking the offending object more firmly away.
“You know you’ll need to part with that one day,” Athos commented quietly, turning his hold from possessive to protective as he listened to the pitter-patter of Aramis’ still very alive heart.
“I know,” Aramis answered, fingers still lingering on where the pendant would fall against his chest. “It’s more habit than anything else.”
Athos hesitated, wanting to believe him but unable to when he had been forced to stop at many a threshold because it burned at the edges, because he had watched Aramis go into a building and could not follow. It didn’t hurt for himself, but he hurt for Aramis, for losing a part of himself to gain something else.
“Athos.” Aramis followed the call by a nudge of his nose against Athos’, added a soft kiss to teeth that one day soon would kill him. “It’s only a habit, and even you have habits.”
“You are my habit, Aramis,” Athos answered honestly, a rough edge to it when he held life - hislife - in his arms.
Aramis’ smile spread like wildfire, like red wine spilt on a floor, and with that he reached behind his own neck to unhook the slim, silver chain, and then he returned, like a lost breath, a lost life, and Athos stared in wonderment as the cross was put away. “Well, there are some habits that cannot be broken, Athos de la Fère.”
“I would never break you,” Athos replied, somewhat stunned, and he could only blink when Aramis kissed his way along his jaw, blunt teeth a distracting thing but his swift pulse the true distraction to a creature that hungered, a creature of habit.
“Just once,” Aramis whispered, lifting his chin to bare the gorgeous, vulnerable line of his throat.
Just once.
For@celticwildechild and a lovely anon who requested Athos/Aramis (and on such an obvious prompt too, you stereotypes!) <3
I haven’t written the Musketeers boys in a while; a little NSFW, ‘cause why not.
6. “You call that a costume? It’s like three tiny pieces of fabric!”
“Honestly, Aramis, I think it counts as streaking,” Athos commented off-handedly, having a hard time looking away from legs that never seemed to end and a smile that he hoped never stopped.
In his defence, when Aramis had appeared at the top of the stairs in what could only gratuitously be called a fancy-dress costume, he wasn’t sure whether to encourage or deny the sly smile that had graced Aramis’ lips. The supposed outfit was somewhere between a pair of underwear and a grass-skirt - although Athos had a very strong suspicion that Aramis was definitely lacking the former.
“It does not!” Aramis stomped his foot, coming dangerously close to revealing something that might very well derail the entire evening, and the movement came with a shower of sparkles.
Athos raised a brow. “Are you wearing more glitter than actual clothes?”
“Glitter counts as a body covering,” Aramis said airily, refusing to dignify Athos’ smirk with anything other than his nose in the air.
It came down rather happily when Athos held out a hand to help him down the last few steps. Aramis flowed into his arms, cattail-lined eyes falling shut on a contented sigh as Athos let his fingers see just how much the outfit covered - or didn’t cover, in this case.
It was second-nature to seek out the places his hands liked to rest, at the angelic slide of his waist and the sinful furrow of his hips, and Aramis rather quickly decided that he didn’t mind being late to the party as long as Athos kept doing that thing with his tongue.
As it turned out, glitter didn’t last long against a determined onslaught, and the costume put up even less of a fight.
Athos had been right, there was no underwear to speak of.
“I really don’t think glitter counts as clothing, mon coeur,” Athos drawled, thoroughly enjoying watching Aramis put himself back together again. “What does Porthos call it? Nature’s herpes?”
Aramis strolled past him as if he hadn’t just been desperately whispering Athos’ name and crying out for the whole street to hear, and left a cloud of fairy dust in his wake. “Porthos dressed as youfor Hallowe’en, I don’t know why you’re defending him.”
“I’m not defending hi– he did what?”
Aramis pulled him into another kiss, his smile a satisfied thing. “You have glitter on your lips, mon cher.”
For@davis-bess-666, who requested Athos/Aramis! People are on it for Athamis today, what gives, peeps. Just plain ol’ silliness in this one, get your fill of smut and fluff in the others!
That was what Aramis had said when Athos had taken a blade to one of those damn pumpkins Aramis had kept stashed on the windowsill for ages. Specially sourced, he had said. It seemed rather like a waste of money if all they were going to do was cut faces in them - faces which apparently had to be to a certain standard.
What had he expected? Athos wasn’t going use one of the goodknives, because who would have to sharpen them come Christmas time? Him, andcarve,andserve, and honestly he was already tired, he considered skipping the holidays this year - or maybe just hibernating all the way through to February.
Well, far be it for Athos to remain grumpy about the whole thing.
For more than a week, anyway.
So, Athos had a plan, he had a very good plan, in fact he would go so far as to say that it was brilliant.
Aramis waited impatiently as Athos’ hand hovered over a cloth, under which was presumably the fabled pumpkin he’d spent all this time on.
“You know I didn’t mean it, Athos, about your pumpkin,” Aramis offered, as he had the last five times pumpkins had come up in conversation, but as usual, he was ignored.
“You wanted a proper carving, then I shall provide,” Athos returned, the picture of haughtiness.
Aramis rolled his eyes, but they caught on a flash of orange as Athos dramatically revealed…
“What is that?”
“It’s a pumpkin carving,” Athos replied off-handedly, tilting his head to the side as if observing his masterpiece.
“Yeah, no, pumpkin carvings are traditionally a face,in the side.”
“You didn’t like that when I tried it.”
Aramis waved his hands about, trying for words and ending up, sort of, wordless. “Yes, but I didn’t mean… this!”
This, was a pumpkin. This, was a carving. This, was not what he meant.
“Have you carved the nativity out of the pumpkin?” Aramis asked, somewhat strangled, definitely in awe of something that blew his scary-face-carving out of the water. With a cannon, six of them, from a huge ship. “Okay, fine, you win. You have the best pumpkin, can I have a kiss now?”
Athos nodded regally, but the edge of a smile flirted with his mouth when Aramis settled in his arms. It felt as if it had been an age since he had been here, but if he was honest it was only this morning. Aramis murmured an apology against bristled cheeks, and Athos seemed to think something over.
“Well,Ididn’t carve it.”
“Oh, my God.”
